


Bucky's Baking Bastards

by breatheforeverypart



Series: Watson the Service Dog and his Partner-in-health, Bucky Barnes [1]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, HOORAY, Late Night Conversations, Programming, Watson the Service Dog isn't around yet, friends helping friends, post red room trauma, therapeutic baking, trigger phrases
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:15:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23222347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breatheforeverypart/pseuds/breatheforeverypart
Summary: Bucky can't sleep and decides to bake enough for a the Avengers, for at least a week.  Natasha stays with him, but soon they find themselves in the midst of another flashback fueled nightmare.  Clint, Sam and Steve play supportive roles and add a bit of fluff.
Relationships: Avengers as family - Relationship, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson
Series: Watson the Service Dog and his Partner-in-health, Bucky Barnes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758628
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	Bucky's Baking Bastards

“Son of a nutcracker!” Her whisper shouted, popping his finger in his mouth. 

Natasha jumped into a defensive position part of a blanket still hanging off her shoulders. Grumbling sleepily, she padded into the kitchen. 

“Sorry doll.” Bucky motioned to the counter and she pulled out a stool. “You want a muffin?” 

Yawning Natasha surveyed the kitchen. “Fuck. How long have you been at this?” 

He shrugged and plucked a cake tester from the drying rack. 

“Got anything chocolate?” 

Smirking he opened the oven and removed a tray. “Gimme 2 more minutes and you can have brownies.” 

“Yum.” She murmured. “Do you want a cup of tea?” 

Natasha maneuvered around the counter, selecting a teabag and her favorite chipped mug off the rack. Frowning slightly, she turned towards her friend. 

Bucky was standing at the sink, cold water running, his hands submerged in icy water. His mouth agape, eyes vacant, hair falling over his face. 

Natasha dove for the faucet, shutting off the stream. He remained unmoving, his breathing shallow and fast. Even as she crossed his midline, he didn’t flinch. Shit. 

“James?” Natasha tried tentatively, hoping to appeal to a part of Bucky’s splintered humanity. 

No response. Natasha slowly moved her hand to touch his chest. Without blinking he gripped her wrist and pushed her against the counter, deftly placing a knife to her jugular. Doughnuts fell to the floor. 

кто ты для меня (who are you to me)? He growled. 

Meeting his eyes, Natasha prayed that he may forgive her for what she was about to do. He could match all of her Widow attacks, he knew her better than she knew herself. 

“Do it Nat.” 

Automatically she turned towards Clint. He confirmed her fears “You have to, he’ll only fight harder if I try to disarm him from here.” 

Swallowing “Soldat Ни шагу назад!,” (soldier, not a step back). Her voice wavered slightly, but she forced her face into the blank slate she knew it could be. 

This shell of her friend straightened his posture, dropped the knife and began trembling. “готов соблюдать” (ready to comply). A low voice void of all emotion and understanding answered. 

Natasha flicked her gaze to Clint, who was carefully sliding his knives back into his boots. 

Clint motioned for Nat to pick up the knife Bucky had dropped. Her hand only twitched a bit as she scraped the blade against the floor. 

“Should we call Steve?” The archer asked, resisting the impulse to tuck Natasha behind him. She could hold her own, she always had, but he was always going to feel protective of her. 

Nodding, Natasha quietly asked JARVIS to contact Steve and Sam. 

While Natasha waited she began cleaning around the eerily still monument of a man, a perverted homage to a past she still did not fully understand.  
*** Flashback ***

Natasha held a hand to his face. “Do not forget. Don’t forget me. Please.” 

The mission was complete. She was mostly in one piece. She didn’t matter. The copper pipe wedged in between her third and fourth ribs begged to differ. 

Her Soldat concerned her greatly. It was her fault. She screamed in shock when an agent had slammed into her and broken her leg. Weak, she would always be weak. 

She knew better, she distracted the Soldat with her weakness and meaningless pain. The Soldat had roared and destroyed the rest of the prisoners. 

He disobeyed orders. Direct orders to maintain the lives of the director and his subordinates. He would pay with his memory. 

Pain, torture, compliance. This was their life, all that they were meant to achieve. Guilt twisted her insides worse than the rod wedged under her heart. 

*** End of Flashback ***

Frantic footsteps pulled Natasha out of her head long enough for her to realize she was sitting on the floor, rocking slightly, an unnatural grip on her ears. 

Two bodies. Friends? No. 

Anger. Fear. THREAT. 

“Back off or fuck off?” That voice. Familiar? No, everyone is a threat. No one can be trusted. Madame always said, do not forget my teaching. 

“Natasha.” Clint kept his attention on his partner, but held a hand up behind him. “Fuck off. Now.” 

Sam held Steve back as he cried out “Buck?” Upset. Familiar crying sounds. 

Natasha released her hands and found her eyes opening. Her chest heaving, she held her knees tightly. 

“Nat?” Clint’s hand hovered just above her shoulder. “Natasha. It’s okay love. We’re here, we’re safe.” 

“это моя вина.” (it’s my fault). Her voice was fragile, uncharacteristic of her. 

Clint took her carefully into his arms, “Nyet Natalia, nyet.” 

“Bucky, what are you- “ Steve asked and Sam stepped defensively in front of the captain. 

Even if Clint had been wearing new batteries in both his hearing aids, he could not have explained the communication between the woman in his lap and the flour-covered ex-assassin. 

“Natalia. Natalia. ты в безопасности мой маленький дорогой.” (Natalia. Natalia. You are safe my little dear.) 

Nodding, the Black Widow reached for his face and lightly pressed their foreheads together. 

More words were exchanged, not that Clint could decipher any of it. After all, his lip-reading capabilities in anything other than English were elementary at best. Add the adrenaline from the last thirty minutes or so and his attention span was even smaller than usual. 

Leaving the duo on the floor, Clint stumbled out of his kneeling position on the floor. Grimacing her pulled himself to the counter. 

“Wanna brownie?” He gesticulated to the plethora of baked goods all over the kitchen. 

Sam crinkled his nose and selected an apple muffin with crumb topping. 

Stretching both hands over his head Steve sighed loudly. Clint held out a brownie to his friend while wiping the remains on his shirt.  
They chewed in awkward silence for what seemed like an hour until Sam broke the tension by rubbing his hands together. 

“Anybody want coffee? I think we’ll be here a while.” 

Clint’s smile was pure joy. “Do you even have to ask?” Bending down, he started picking up doughnuts. 

Steve opened a trash bags and reached for the pastries the archer had tucked against his torso. “You can’t eat those dudes, they’ve been all over the floor.” 

His eyes narrowed “Make me. I’ve eaten worse.” 

“That’s what worries me Clint.” Sam snickered as he set three mugs next to the coffee pot. 

Stealing a glance at Natasha, who was comfortably curled into Bucky’s side, his metal arm holding her tight. Bucky’s lips moved to music he couldn’t begin to understand and they both appeared comforted. At least for the moment. 

“Fine.” He answered, turning to Steve and Sam. “But I get a second cup for leaving the doughnuts alone.”


End file.
